The Right Hand of Evil

CHAPTER 34

Morning did nothing to dispel the terrors Kim had felt the night before. As she came downstairs, fingers of panic still reached out to her. Although everything in the cavernous entry hall looked exactly as it had yesterday, it felt strangely ominous even in the morning light. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Kim found herself shivering, as if the terrible chill she'd felt at the door to Molly's room as dawn was beginning to break had now spread down the stairs. As she passed through the dining room on her way to the kitchen, she stopped to gaze at the trompe l'oeil mural her mother was painting on the wall opposite the windows. The perfectly executed French doors, the faux terrace, even the balustrade outside, looked exactly as they had yesterday afternoon, but now, with the sun flooding in the windows opposite, it looked as if her mother had done something to the garden beyond the terrace. Kim studied the mural for several minutes before she realized what had changed.

The garden seemed to be dying. The flowers that appeared so perfectly fresh and lifelike only yesterday looked this morning as if they were starting to wilt, and the green of the trees seemed to have faded, as if the painted foliage were somehow starting to turn brown. But why would her mother have done it?

Kim moved closer to the wall, to see if some kind of wash had been applied to the whole garden, but it was almost as if each flower, each leaf, had taken on a faintly unhealthy cast. The mural, which a day earlier had given the whole dining room a bright and cheerful feel, now sent a somber mood over the room.

Kim turned away.

As she pushed open the kitchen door, she unconsciously braced herself against Scout's enthusiastic morning greeting. In the fraction of a second it took for her to remember that Scout was no longer in the house, the strange feeling of unease she'd had as she came downstairs notched up. Turning on the stove and setting a pot of water to boil, she went to the back door, stepped out onto the porch, and called out to Scout. As she waited for the dog to respond, she sucked the morning air deep into her lungs, and felt some of the tension that had been building inside her start to abate. She called out to Scout three more times, and when the big retriever didn't appear, she went back into the house.

Her father and brother were in the kitchen now, standing at the counter, their backs to her. The memory of the two robed and hooded figures she'd seen in her dream came to mind, and when first Jared, then her father, turned to look at her, another memory snapped into focus. The expression she'd seen in their eyes-the terrible look of hatred-recurred to her.

The terrible vision dissolved as quickly as it had come as she realized that the "hooded robes" of her dream were this morning nothing more than the same bathrobes they wore practically every day.

"Where's Mom?" she asked.

"I told her to sleep in this morning," her father said.

Had a look passed between her father and Jared? She wasn't sure. She cocked her head, frowning uncertainly. "Is something going on? Something I don't know about?"

This time she was certain that Jared glanced at his father. Then he grinned at her. Not the friendly grin he used to give her, when they'd still been so close. This morning the grin had an edge to it.

"Going paranoid on us?" he asked.

Kim felt herself blushing. "I'm not paranoid," she said, too quickly. "I just-I don't know. Something just doesn't feel right."

"That sure sounds like paranoia to me, doesn't it, Dad?"

Kim's unease hardened into anger. Since when had Jared and their father gotten so buddy-buddy? Especially since Jared was supposed to have gotten a chewing out last night!

"I better go up and get Molly," she said, suddenly wanting to get out of the kitchen.

"She's still asleep, too," Ted said softly, in a tone of voice that stopped Kim short. She turned to look at him. Her father's eyes locked on hers. "You'd better just get ready for school, Kim," he said quietly. "If you don't hurry, you're going to be late." His eyes held hers a few seconds longer, then he smiled. "All right?"

Kim nodded silently and left the kitchen. As she went upstairs to get dressed, she had a vague feeling that there was something else she'd intended to do before she realized how late it was and that if she didn't hurry she wouldn't make it to school by the first bell. She dressed, still trying to remember what it might have been, but as she combed her hair, then gathered up her books, she decided that whatever it was, it couldn't have been important.

It wasn't until she was a block away from the house that she remembered Molly and the dream she'd had last night. She wondered if maybe she shouldn't go back to the house.

Just to be sure.

But if she did, she would surely be late to her first class.

And besides, the dream she'd had last night was only that-just a dream.

Wasn't it?

The two cars pulled to a stop in front of the Conway house, and both drivers got out. But as Corinne Beckwith started to follow Ray across the lawn toward the columned porch fronting the house, her husband held up a hand as if he were controlling traffic. "This isn't exactly a committee we've got here," he reminded his wife. "I think I can deal with this one alone, okay?"

Corinne glared at Ray. "If I hadn't gone out to Jake's to take care of that dog this morn-" she began. But her words died on her lips because something seemed off kilter. It was as if something were emanating from the house, something that left her feeling she didn't want to be here, after all. It's just the light, she told herself, peering into the shadows that darkened the porch. But it wasn't just a trick of the light; it was as if the entire house had taken on a dark cast; as if it held something unknown that even the structure's massive walls couldn't quite contain.

Why would anyone want to live in this place? Corinne wondered as she let her husband continue-alone, and with no further argument-up to the porch. For some reason, just looking at the Conway house this morning made her shudder.

Ray Beckwith pressed the doorbell, and heard the sound of a muffled chime drift through the thick wood of the doors. He shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other as he waited for the door to open. As the edginess that had come over him as he approached the house became more pronounced, he reminded himself that he was here on legitimate business; he had no cause to feel uneasy.

And yet, inexplicably, he did.

So far, he hadn't had a bad experience with Ted Conway. Sure, the man had been a little angry yesterday, but why wouldn't he be, with Father MacNeill practically accusing his son of defacing his own uncle's tomb? And when he'd gone out to Jake Cumberland's, Conway's idea had panned out, though he did still have some doubts about that. Now that Jake was dead, however, and if Corinne was right that the dog whose head they'd just found had belonged to the Conway boy-

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and Ted Conway appeared. For a moment Ray had the feeling Conway hadn't recognized him, but then the man smiled.

A smile that lit up his face, and made Ray Beckwith's nervousness evaporate.

"Hey, Ray, how's it going?" he asked. Then he spotted Corinne standing on the sidewalk. "May I assume by the presence of the press that this isn't purely a social call? Don't tell me you and Corinne have let Father MacNeill convince you that Jared's up to something!" The dazzling smile returned. Then he winked, as if the two of them were sharing a secret. "Or is it me again? Please don't tell me someone's cooked up some list of ordinances I've already violated. We're not even open yet! Won't be for months."

"Actually, it's a little more serious than that. Somethin' happened out at Jake Cumberland's last night." He told Ted what had happened to Jake last night, and what he and Corinne Beckwith had found in Jake's trunk.

"And when Corinne said you have a golden retriever, I figured I better come over here."

Ted Conway gazed steadily at the policeman. "So you think Jared took his own dog out to Jake's place and killed it." He shook his head almost sadly. "You sure you haven't been talking to Father MacNeill? It sounds exactly like the kind of thing he'd come up with." His voice hardened. "But it doesn't really make much sense, does it?" A frown creased his brow. "Except, of course, that Scout is missing. Jared let him out right after he got home last night, and he didn't come back in." He shrugged helplessly. "We figured there must be a bitch in heat somewhere in the neighborhood, and you know how dogs are. Once they get that scent, there's no stopping them, is there?"

Ray Beckwith shook his head. "No way," he agreed. "Sometimes they can be worse'n tomcats." He pulled a small notebook out of his jacket pocket. "You say it was Jared that let him out?"

"That's right," Ted replied. "In fact, I was with him. We were both in the kitchen. The minute Jared opened the door, Scout was off like a rocket."

"And what about your boy? He go out again?"

Ted shook his head. "It was already pretty late, and it was a school night, too. Besides, he wasn't feeling well-went right to bed after we gave up trying to get the dog back. Still feeling kind of flu-ish this morning, so we're keeping him home from school. But I'll tell you what-how about if I have him give you a call once he's feeling a little better? Then you can ask him anything you want."

Ray Beckwith closed the notebook and tucked it back into his pocket. "Don't really see that that'll be necessary," he said. "Seems like you've pretty much told me what I need to know. Sounds like someone came across the dog and took him out to Jake's. Used it for some kind of voodoo ceremony. I guess someone really had it in for Jake-"

"Or for us," Ted Conway interjected. "Maybe whoever did it used Scout for a reason." His eyes fixed on Beckwith.

The sheriff frowned as he turned Ted Conway's words over in his mind. Then he thought he understood what the other man meant. "You mean Father Mack?" he asked.

Ted Conway shrugged again. "You said that, Ray," he said softly. "Not me."

As Ted Conway's eyes remained steadily on him, Ray Beckwith wondered why he'd let Corinne talk him into coming over here. It was suddenly so obvious that the Conways didn't have anything to do with the vandalism, he felt he was just wasting time. "No sir, Mr. Conway," he said. "I'm sure not gonna let that happen." Shaking hands with Ted, he strode off the porch.

"Well?" Corinne asked anxiously. "Was it their dog?"

Ray nodded. "But none of them had anything to do with it, babe. The dog took off last night, and the boy was in bed, sick. Still is."

Corinne's lips pursed suspiciously. "Did you see him?"

"I didn't need to see him," Beckwith shot back. "You've been married to me long enough to know I can tell when someone's lying to me. Ted Conway wasn't lying."

Corinne's gaze shifted back to the house. Ted Conway was still standing on the porch, and as his eyes met hers, Corinne felt as if a wave of hatred had broken over her.

Suddenly, all Corinne Beckwith wanted was to get away.

As far away as she could.